Burn Ointment Will Do That to You
by Tam Cranver
Summary: My apologies if this story appears twice--I'm technologically impaired. Jon gets a bit drunk, and he and George have a conversation about Alanna. Rating is for the drunk part and references to sex: Better safe than sorry.


Disclaimer/Author''s note: I own practically nothing in this piece. The situation portrayed is my own, but all events leading up to it and following it belong to Tamora Pierce, as do all the characters. The scene takes place sometime before the part in Lioness Rampant in which Alanna and Jonathan make amends. That said; feel free to read on.

King Jonathan of Conté stirred; switching the side he put his weight on. He squinted at the bottle----it was still half full. Mithros curse his sheltered upbringing!! How in the world did the people in the Dancing Dove stomach all this coarse alcohol?? He had heard it was quite useful for drowning your sorrows, but he assumed that only worked if you could keep it down long enough for it to affect your brain. Scowling at the bottle, he took another swig and it was all he could do to keep from spitting it out. 

"Jon?" The voice of George Cooper, king of thieves and a good friend of Jonathan's reached through his semi-drunken haze and he grinned a watery grin. George was just the man he needed to see at a time like this.

"Jon?" George repeated as he reached the doorway of Jonathan's chamber. His hazel eyes caught the bottle of liquor in Jonathan's hand and he shook his head, exasperated. "Jonathan, you poor noble sap. What's your trouble this time?"

"Alanna. Who else do you know who could make me feel the need to force this..._trash_ down?" Jonathan suddenly felt like weeping; he thought somewhat happily that perhaps the alcohol was finally taking effect.

"All right, let's see it." George pushed Jonathan's legs off the velvet-covered couch and grabbed the bottle out of his hands. Sniffing it, he turned the bottle around in his hands until he found the label. "Ah, Jon! All this education, and they never taught you to read the label? It's that stuff healers put on burn wounds and blisters and the like. It's got alcohol in it, but it's also got all sorts of herbs and magic powders and stuff. If you really wanted to get drunk, y' should have come to me. Heaven knows _I_ know a place or two to do it. So, what's got you so down you're turning to burn ointment?"

"Don't make fun of me!" Jonathan weakly protested, pulling himself up off the couch. George fixed him with a sardonic glare that clearly said_ Stop acting like a little kid_, and the king settled back onto the satin pillow he had been resting on. "Well, you know how I was going to ask Alanna to marry me?" George nodded, a look of anger sliding across his face before it faded into a mask of neutrality. "Well, I did."

"And?"

"And I don't know what happened from that point on. She said she needed time to think about it, so I gave her time. Then she said she needed more time. I guess I kind of assumed the answer was yes." George shook his head, clicking his tongue reprovingly, but said nothing. "So when we left, I arranged for all her things. I thought, you know, I'd be a gentleman and make her comfortable." Jonathan sighed, then took a deep breath and continued. ""Well, it turned out she wanted even more time. I got a little upset and said some things I shouldn't have."

"Things like what?" George asked, unsure whether he ought to be amused, worried, or angry.

"Well, let's just say I used the phrase, 'maidenly shyness.'" The two kings shared a good chuckle at that one, before Jonathan's face turned mournful. "I don't know, George. I thought it'd work so well. You know, we've always been such good friends, and they say that all the best romances start as friendships."

"Who says that?"

"Bards and such. I don't know. Don't interrupt. Anyway, we would have made a good couple, at least in bed." Jonathan blushed, shocked that he had added that last part. George just laughed and gestured for him to continue. "But she's mad at me. And you know, people'd talk. They'd say maybe something wasn't right about it, her being a woman knight and my being the king and all. But I'm scared, George. Maybe I'll never find anyone better, and I won't produce an heir, and the country will go to ruin, and--"

"Calm down. Jon. Tell me true, have you got your eyes on anyone else? Not considerin' brains or talent or courage or anything else, do you…well, _want _anybody else?"

Jonathan thought about it, then shook his head. "No. But I think I understand what you're getting at. Mayhap I'm not really ready to give up courting and settle down with one woman, is that it?"

"If that's what you're getting out of my wise counsel, than take it. I, of course, got my more selfish reasons for not wanting you to marry the Lioness."

Jonathan stared, uncomprehending, at George, then blushed a color that put eggplants to shame. "Sorry, George. Here I was, talking about my lady trouble with a man who wants the selfsame lady as me."

"Well, can you imagine spending the rest of your life with Alanna?" Getting a shake of the head from Jonathan, he said, "Well, I certainly can. I've been imagining it for a long time. The thing is, like in your situation, people'd talk. The king of thieves and a lady knight? Why, the rumors would be coming from both sides of the social scale."

"Hmmm. You're probably right. Maybe we both had better give up on her, for the time being."

"Well, we don't give up. We wait. We see which one of us she really wants to--marry, or live with, or hold hands with in the street, or whatever. We don't force ourselves on her, and we don't fight over her. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Jonathan winced, and said plaintively, "Although I do wish you'd come to me with this advice _before _I downed a bottle of who knows what. I really think I'm going to vomit."

George rose from the couch and gave Jonathan a mock salute. "Love troubles, I can handle; your innards, I cannot. I would be wary of telling anybody what brought on this sudden bout of illness. After all, a king of your intelligence ought to at least know how to get drunk." He exited the room, leaving Jonathan with a lightened heart but a furiously bubbling stomach.

From the author: Well, so ends my second attempt at fan fiction. For all those who read my first (unfinished) attempt, bear with me. I'm working on it. Thank you sincerely for reading. Please review; I would greatly appreciate the input.


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